Story
January 1st, 2008; 9:26 AM; Worst moment of my life. "Mom is dead. Wake up." How do you even react to something like that? I didn't know how to handle it. Should I cry, or what? I just sat there, and watched them haul her away. When they asked me questions, I just stared. My cousin, Leslie, came and got my brother and I. Then, we went to her house, and I just sat, numb. I didn't know what to do.
I didn’t cry. Not until about a week later, when I returned to school. Then it seemed so final. I spent night after night crying and crying, not knowing what to do. After about three days, I decided I needed to be me again, and I stopped. I was sad she was gone, but I knew she wasn’t coming back, and I knew crying wasn’t going to change that. I knew that no matter what I did, she was gone.
For a while after that, I just lived, but I wasn’t really living. I was accomplishing what I needed to do to survive. I would just wake up, and every smile was empty. I don’t think I truly had a full, happy smile, for 6 months. I broke down randomly when I heard a song she loved, or saw a picture. I would even cry when I saw little girls with their mothers, all happy, and I would think of what I had, and what could’ve been. I would think about the fact that she was gone, and that she would never see me graduate, or get married. I would think of how proud of me she could’ve been.
When I went back to school, things got a little better. I came to grips that things wouldn’t ever be the same, and instead of moping around about it, I worked not for myself, but to make her happy. Almost as if it could bring her back. I knew it wouldn’t, but I felt like it was the only thing I could do.
Now, as I sit here, and tell you my story, teary eyed, I think of how proud of me she would’ve been. I think of the fact that she would’ve been ecstatic when my brother, Sam, graduated kindergarten. I think of how happy she would’ve been when my dad bought his Harley. I think of her singing along at a concert for the Toys, and it all gets a little better. Still, today, I wear her necklace. I bring her everywhere I go.
Plan
I'm just going to record audio, since my story is very personal.
Allison's Story
StoryJanuary 1st, 2008; 9:26 AM; Worst moment of my life. "Mom is dead. Wake up." How do you even react to something like that? I didn't know how to handle it. Should I cry, or what? I just sat there, and watched them haul her away. When they asked me questions, I just stared. My cousin, Leslie, came and got my brother and I. Then, we went to her house, and I just sat, numb. I didn't know what to do.
I didn’t cry. Not until about a week later, when I returned to school. Then it seemed so final. I spent night after night crying and crying, not knowing what to do. After about three days, I decided I needed to be me again, and I stopped. I was sad she was gone, but I knew she wasn’t coming back, and I knew crying wasn’t going to change that. I knew that no matter what I did, she was gone.
For a while after that, I just lived, but I wasn’t really living. I was accomplishing what I needed to do to survive. I would just wake up, and every smile was empty. I don’t think I truly had a full, happy smile, for 6 months. I broke down randomly when I heard a song she loved, or saw a picture. I would even cry when I saw little girls with their mothers, all happy, and I would think of what I had, and what could’ve been. I would think about the fact that she was gone, and that she would never see me graduate, or get married. I would think of how proud of me she could’ve been.
When I went back to school, things got a little better. I came to grips that things wouldn’t ever be the same, and instead of moping around about it, I worked not for myself, but to make her happy. Almost as if it could bring her back. I knew it wouldn’t, but I felt like it was the only thing I could do.
Now, as I sit here, and tell you my story, teary eyed, I think of how proud of me she would’ve been. I think of the fact that she would’ve been ecstatic when my brother, Sam, graduated kindergarten. I think of how happy she would’ve been when my dad bought his Harley. I think of her singing along at a concert for the Toys, and it all gets a little better. Still, today, I wear her necklace. I bring her everywhere I go.
Plan
I'm just going to record audio, since my story is very personal.
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